The Withering Snapdragon
by Metallic Shadows
Summary: It's Christmas. Castiel runs into a crisis with Gabriel handing out coal like he's Santa. Meanwhile the Winchester's are snowed in and are having to deal with having a 'normal' Christmas.


The gentle breeze of warm summer air wafted through the room. Almost like the feeling was real but it's wasn't. Just a memory, and not Castiel's at that. The air tingling his vessel's skin, a pleasant hum vibrating through his throat in contentment. His Autistic patient silently flying a kite near the gardens and watching as the bright primary colours fluttered in a blur through the light wind. The triangular tails flittering, the fabric snapping sharply as it changed direction occasionally. It's funny how he'd come to think of the man as _his. _If anything, Castiel was the intruder. He'd taken the man's heaven and made it his own.

Peacefully walking through the freshly mowed grass, he stepped through to the gardens. His well polished black shoes treading carefully through the field, avoiding the wild flowers that grew there. His tanned overcoat curled behind him as the wind picked up momentarily. Grass soon dissolved into stone. Cobbled slabs laid beneath his feet as he stepped through the trees and into the hidden plantation, guided by the neatly paved paths.

Admiring the flowers once grown there by the patients. Castiel found himself smiling, a soft puff of air escaping his nostrils. It was a surreal image. The flowers. Their touch and smell. Everything was to the memory, but none of it was real. The scent of sweet roses filled the air, overpowering the smell of the bland daisies. That's the problem with one's heaven. It is depicted to that to which you remember.

And of course, this not technically being his memories. He had no say in what could be seen and smelt but Castiel savoured what was now his nonetheless. At the far back, laid a fiery red snapdragon. It's petals small in shape but curved in such a way as to perceive the mouth of a dragon. A flower, which Castiel had taken to symbolizing as the War in Heaven.

_And thus, did Micheal and his angels fight against the dragon. And the dragon and his angels thought back, but he was defeated and there was no longer any place for them in heaven. And the great dragon was thrown down, that ancient serpent, who is called The Devil and Satan, the deceiver of the whole world - he was thrown down to the Earth, and his angels were thrown down with him._

It had been a long war, lives were lost to Dumah, the prince of Hell. With a blade forged from the fiery pit of whence he came, the angel of death took upon the lost and dead and built an army of destruction. With a thousand eyes as thick as tar, glaring in every direction, the angel would cast the souls of the wicked down into the depths of Hades, claiming them as his own.

Castiel wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there. Could have been minutes. Could have been days. The angel found it easy to slip off into thought, mourning those that he'd lost. After all, his life did not always revolve around the Winchesters. Despite what the two hunters thought.

* * *

"No way, dude. Get your own," Dean grumbled, batting Sam's hand away from his bowl of popcorn. He clutched the green bowl possessively, twisting his body away from Sam and sneakily popping a few pieces into his mouth like a squirrel would do with its nuts. "Jerk," Sam muttered, crossing his arms in obvious irritation and huffing loudly, causing a piece of his hair to dangle in front of his face.

After a moment, Sam stood up and headed into the kitchen. Hearing Dean mutter "Bitch" under his breath with a mouthful of popcorn. They were snowed in, in the middle of nowhere Nebraska. Dean's precious car had finally given up the ghost. And without Bobby's Yard to tow here back to, they were finding it hard to find a place to fix her up in. Especially this close to Christmas.

So reluctantly, the boys had decided to spend Christmas as an actual festive holiday and not another day on the job, hunting monsters. Sam insisted that they get a tree and make the place look nice at least. Dean had grumbled something about there not being any point and Sam had spent the next hour convincing him they should at least have something nice for dinner.

Christmas Eve was already upon them and Sam wrestled through the bitter snow out towards the town. Dean opted out on coming, too enthralled in an episode of Wheel of Fortune he was pretending not to watch. Wrapped up in his usual thick lumberjacket type shirts, Sam wore an extra layer as well as a scarf and hunting jacket to keep him warm.

He didn't look very Christmasy and Sam felt a bit lost on what, in society would class as normal. Finding himself in the middle of town. He looked around. Mother's dressed haphazardly, carrying wrapped presents that piled up high in their arms. Their children skipping happily in the snow around them as the mother's tried to walk without falling over. Father's gathered around the local jewellery store, noses pressed to the glass as they all looked cluelessly at the silverwear in the shop window. Struggling to fathom what their wives and daughters might want.

Their was a warm glow from the lights above, tangled up around telephone poles to make the place look more festive. Everyone was smiling and looking very relaxed, a light buzz in the atmosphere from the children chanting excitedly. 'It's Christmas tomorrow'. Sam found the whole scene moving and honestly, just once. He wished he'd gotten to join in with the festivities like everyone else.

After pulling himself together, he continued to walk through the streets, finding a butchers packed full of people. He waited patiently in line, practically towering over everyone with his height. It felt weird. Doing something as mundane as buying food after the week he and Dean had had. When it was finally his turn he ordered a leg of lamb. He'd order a turkey but the motel oven wasn't big enough, plus he doubted Dean cared too much about Christmas traditions. Not ones that differed from the Winchester's anyway.

After surfing his way out through the herds of people, he made it back out onto the street. Next, going to the grocers for some vegetables, Christmas pudding and mulled wine…then going back for some whiskey. Dean would only complain otherwise. As a final thought, Sam went to the hardware store to buy Dean a present. A large smile on his face as he knew exactly what to get him.

* * *

As the snow grew thicker, an unused warehouse began to fade beneath the weather. Perfect for keeping hidden from knowing eyes. Within the large empty room lay abandoned barrels, those containing brandy and whiskey. A hand drew out from the shadows, pouring a glass from one of the barrels to sample.

A man struggled, tied to a chair in the centre of the room. The moonlight beating down on him as he watched with worried eyes as the shorter man circled him slowly. The glass being observed cautiously before a pair of lips slid against the glass and sipped at the liquid. "URGH," cried the man, spitting out the brandy and throwing the glass with distaste to the floor. The pieces forgotten and shattered across the floor. "What's a man gotta do to get a descent drink around here?"

The man tied up scowled. "You are no man," he said angrily, voice low and dangerous. The other stepped forward into the light, revealing a pair of golden eyes fit for a king. "Neither are you," Gabriel retorted with a spreading smirk. The man's eyes flashed to black, cocking his head with a sour grin.

Gabriel paced a little around the Devil's trap painted on the floor and sighed dramatically. "_In the year that king Uzziah died I saw also the Lord sitting upon a throne, high and lifted up, and his train filled the temple. Above it stood the seraphims,_" Gabriel paused, pointing at himself. "That's me," he said cheerfully, almost proud. "_Each one had six wings; with twain he covered his face, and with twain he covered his feet, and with twain he did fly._" He produced a pair of tongs from his sleeve and began inspecting them as he spoke. The demon seemingly unfazed as of yet.

"_And the posts of the door moved at the voice of him that cried, and the house filled with smoke_." He paused again, giving the demon a wink. "This is where you come in, this is you," he pointed out. "_Then said I, Woe is me! for I am undone; because I am a man of unclean lips, and I dwell in the midst of a people of unclean lips: for mine eyes have seen the King, the LORD of hosts._"

"Will this take much longer?" the demon sighed in annoyance. Gabriel pouted, coming to stand in front of the demon. "Shut your yapper, here comes the best part." He cleared his throat and began reciting again. "_Then flew one of the seraphim's unto me, having a live coal in his hand, which he had taken with the tongs from off the alter: _…" Gabriel taking the tongs from his hand, magically producing a hot coal to sit between the metal ready to use. He took a step closer, holding the weapon up to the demon's face as he continued to speak. "…_And he laid it upon my mouth, and said_…"

"_Lo, this hath touched thy lips; and thine iniquity is taken away, and thy sin purged_," Castiel interrupted from the shadows, continuing the verse in a dangerously low voice. Gabriel straightened up, looking in the direction he knew his brother to be in. "You spoilt the ending," he pouted upsettingly. Castiel did not look too pleased. "What are you doing?" he demanded, eerily calm.

"Makin' a list and checkin' it twice," Gabriel winked with a wide grin, although the joke was lost on Castiel. "This is not the way of our Father," Castiel reminded with heavy heart. "We do not treat demons like dogs," he spat, appearing from the shadows and pressing his hand firmly against the back of the demon's head, causing him to cry out in pain as he was filled with light from the inside out before falling forward, dead.

Gabriel dropped the coal and tongs, already bored and having no need for them now. "You're no fun. Where is your Christmas spirit?" he teased. Castiel held his glare, warning Gabriel to stop. Gabriel held up his hands in an innocent gesture. "Okay, alright. I'll stop playin' with my food," he smirked. Castiel still did not look pleased. "Just make sure that you do," he said, tone dangerously calm. He teleported shortly after, leaving Gabriel to clean up his mess.

* * *

"Don't hog it all," Dean muttered, mouthful of potatoes and lamb as he snatched the mulled wine from Sam from across the small table. Apparently the elder Winchester liked wine more than he cared to mention. Sam was sure to tease him about that later.

Christmas day and the boys found themselves around the small motel room table. Cooked lamb, soaked in herbs and oils, giving off fine smells that accompanied the wine. Sam wasn't much of a cook but it was edible and he'd followed the cooking programmes advice to the dot so it was good enough for them. A couple of plates piled high with food for both brothers as they ate probably the best meal either had seen in a long time.

Sam rolled his eyes, "I thought you didn't like all this festive crap." Dean was quiet for a moment as he chomped the last few forkfuls of his meal before he swallowed to answer Sam. "Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong," he said quietly, hiding his shame behind his glass of wine because Winchester's never admitted they were wrong.

A small smirk spread across Sam's face as he leaned closer. "I'm sorry, didn't quite catch that," he teased. Dean glaring at him half-heartedly. "Don't push it," he warned though he was smiling. Sam laughed, finishing his food with a satisfied hum. The clank of cutlery hitting the plate as he put down his knife and fork.

"Evening," Castiel's voice greeted as he suddenly appeared, standing at the edge of the table. Sam smiled, always glad to see the angel was in one piece. Dean, however was never happy. "Where have you been?" he asked like a father would his teenage daughter after catching them sneaking into the house at early hours of the morning. Castiel gave a distant look. "I was dealing with Santa," he answered cryptically. The brothers shared a look but decided it was better not to ask. At least for now anyway.

"You wanna join us? I mean, the foods gone but we've got lots more wine left," Sam asked hopefully. He wasn't even sure whether Castiel knew about Christmas, over than from what the bible said. Castiel pondered in thought before nodding, taking the vacant seat as Dean reluctantly poured him a glass of wine. Being the selfish jerk he was wanted it all for himself.

Castiel took the glass and looked at his reflection in the warm liquid. He thought about how this was the first time the Winchesters had wanted him to stay without a hunt being in the equation. He thought about how he may have been wrong about the Winchesters maybe they didn't just look to him for answers. Maybe they looked to him for companionship too.

* * *

Christmas was soon just another day, night falling upon them. Dean sprawled out across the couch, snoring obnoxiously as Christmas movies played across the TV, the volume down low. Castiel was looking out the window, watching the snow settle once more. The Impala parked beneath a streetlamp, almost not visible from snow that covered the vehicle. Sam watched the lone angel for a moment before taking a hesitant step towards him. "Hey, Cas?" he began quietly as to not wake Dean up. "I just wanted to, you know, say thanks, for stayin' and that. I know you're probably busy and stuff."

That's all Castiel ever wanted. Just a bit of appreciation. He found himself smiling. Just a little and looking over at Sam as he slowly turned his body to face him. Both men smiling warmly at each other, expressing themselves openly if just for a moment in private. Away from Dean's jokes and taunts. Away from the reality of the world. Just them.

"Merry Christmas, Cas," Sam said, patting the other's arm lightly before stepping away to go to bed. Leaving Castiel to feel warm and a part of something great.

"Merry Christmas, Sam."

* * *

**Okay, so I tried to do something COMPLETELY different and I'm not quite sure. I kinda ****like it. I don't know. It's a starting point anyways. I wanted to put in some references to angel stuff to keep it in character and stuff but I found Sam and Dean hard to write because they're not on a case and you like hardly ever see them not on one so you don't really know how they'd act so yeah. Anyway, I hope you enjoy and have a wonderful Christmas!  
**


End file.
